


Extra Credit

by Zhie



Series: Eagle's Ridge University [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Cats, Dinner, Hiding Medical Issues, M/M, Professors, Restaurant Nightmare, University, Wet Clothing, actually just one cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:47:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Date night!  Erestor and Glorfindel head to dinner after work, but it does not go as planned, and many secrets are revealed about Erestor's life.





	Extra Credit

**Author's Note:**

> I almost lifted a phrase from the lyrics for Alessia Cara's 'Scars to Your Beautiful' to use at the title for this, so I suggest listening to that song at the end of reading this piece.

“As soon as we have an open table, you will be seated, sir.”

It was 7:28 p.m., and already Erestor and Glorfindel had been waiting for nearly an hour. Initially they had been told it would be a twenty minute wait, but at the minutes came and went, Erestor nervously asked about the table, each time with greater concern, and each time was told in varying ways to go sit down on the bench just outside of the boundaries of the restaurant. 

“Maybe we should try a different place,” suggested Glorfindel as Erestor sat back down beside him again. They had spent the time discussing their classes and the college, as more personal topics seemed odd while within earshot of others waiting and the host. As time wore on, though, they mostly sat in silence, with Erestor checking the time on his phone and Glorfindel trying not to be too concerned about Erestor’s concern.

“If we leave, I feel we are sure to miss the table, and we will be forced to wait again somewhere else.” Erestor furrowed his brow as a trio, who had entered just after Erestor went to make his most recent inquiry, were led into the restaurant. “What is going on here?” he grumbled as he stood up again.

“Maybe that had a reservation,” reasoned Glorfindel.

“No. I heard them answer they did not when asked by the host.” 

Erestor walked back to the podium, but was addressed before he made it there. “Sir, as soon as we have a--”

“I want to speak with the manager.”

“Sir, there are currently no tables available. As soon as--”

“Bullshit. I want to see the manager now.”

“Sir, there is no need to raise your voice,” replied the host in an even tone.

Erestor cleared his throat. “If you think this is a raised voice, you will want to get your manager before I really raise my voice.”

The host looked Erestor over for a moment. “Very well,” he said as he walked away from the podium and into the restaurant.

“Stay there,” directed Erestor as Glorfindel began to stand up.

Glorfindel lowered himself back down with an amused look. “Yes, sir,” he said. As he watched Erestor step behind the podium, he lifted a brow. “May I ask what you are doing?”

“Looking at the grid. Reading the notes. Figuring out how many tables are actually open, and from the looks of it compared to the reservations, there are four.” Erestor slid back around and waited patiently for the host to return. He did so, along with a woman smartly dressed in a blue and white chef’s uniform.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“You are the manager?” Erestor asked.

“The owner,” she replied.

Erestor gave a curt nod. “I want you to know just how rude your employee has been to us this evening. We have waited over an hour, been passed by for others who have come in after we arrived, and even now, with open tables, here we sit.” As Erestor spoke, the woman walked around to examine the seating chart. “I find this behavior wholly unacceptable. I can only imagine why we are suffering this discrimination.”

At the accusation, the host narrowed his eyes and the manager widened hers. “I am sure we can remedy this,” said the manager. “I would welcome you to dine at the chef’s table this evening. Complimentary beverages as my personal apology.”

“No, thank you,” said Erestor. “I did not seek to be given preferential treatment. I simply wanted to inform you of this unfortunate incident so that it might be remedied in the future. I cannot in good conscience eat here this evening, which is most unfortunate, because you have an excellent cream of normandy soup and your seared tuna is perfect. I have been coming here for years, and this is the first time I am leaving insulted. I truly hope that you reconsider your current staff, and that the absence of Randall and Cynthia is temporary.”

“Clearly you are a regular customer. I do apologize,” reiterated the manager.

“You are not the one who needs to apologize.” Erestor turned away and looked at Glorfindel. “Let’s go.”

Glorfindel picked up Erestor’s messenger bag and handed it to him when they reached the door, which Glorfindel held open as they exited. They went straight to Erestor’s car. Once inside, Glorfindel immediately fastened his seatbelt, while Erestor pulled his inhaler from his bag. He took a puff on it before he leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. “I am sorry. I ruined our evening.”

“We still have evening left. We can go somewhere else,” coaxed Glorfindel.

Erestor sighed, his head still down. “I have medications I need to take at eight o’clock, and I have to take them with food. By the time we find a place, are seated, and order, it will be too late.”

“How far are we from where you live?” 

Slowly, Erestor lifted his head, but stared straight forward. “Not far.” He looked defeated as he closed his eyes. “This was supposed to be a nice evening.”

“It still can be. Maybe we could cook together,” suggested Glorfindel. 

“Midterms,” was all Erestor offered.

Glorfindel tilted his head. “Beg your pardon?”

Another sigh left Erestor’s lips as he closed his eyes again. “I am buried in thesis drafts and graduate projects. My sink is heaping with dishes, and the counter is cluttered. The table has no space on it because it is topped with stale bagels I meant to toss out for the birds and bananas I keep telling myself I am going to use for bread, but never do. My house is a mess, and I am embarrassed to admit that, but I would be more so if you saw it right now.”

There was a lengthy pause, and Erestor refused to open his eyes, unwilling to see the shaming look he was certain he would see. Droplets of rain began to speckle the windshield. He held his breath as he heard Glorfindel answer. “At least you have a table to clutter. My groceries, save for the perishables, are still in bags by the front door. I picked those up last Tuesday. Anyhow, I am so glad to hear what you just said.”

Erestor looked up with alarm. “Why would that make you happy?”

“Because I was horribly afraid that you were too perfect, and that I hardly stood a chance with you, and even that you possibly could be seeing someone else, because we never really discussed that,” admitted Glorfindel. “Now I know you are a long-time bachelor, and… I like that,” he said with a smile.

Erestor blushed madly. “You really do not want to see this house.”

“Actually, I really do. Moreover, you need food.”

“Shit. Right,” Erestor groaned.

Glorfindel’s smile brightened even more. “I am not going to judge you based on what your house looks like during the middle of the spring semester. If you are anything like me, you eat your meals out of microwaved boxes, leave all non-important mail in a heap in an Amazon box, and fall asleep some nights sitting in a recliner while trying to grade late papers.”

Erestor turned the key in the ignition. “Almost. I never accept late papers.”

“I bet you don’t allow for extra credit, either,” guessed Glorfindel.

“Very rarely,” confirmed Erestor as he pulled out into traffic. “You just might earn a few points, though, if you can manage not to run away from where I am taking you.”

\- - -

“I honestly expected far worse.”

“I am not sure how to take that,” said Erestor. His keys and his wallet were dropped on a stack of library books on the nearest end table, but his phone he checked to note the time. They had made it in just before the rain really began to pour. “I will show you where everything is in just a few minutes. I need to take care of these medications first.”

Glorfindel nodded and found a spot on the sofa, which contained a heap of discarded suit jackets and a pair of slacks on one end and a stack of notebooks with different colored post it notes sticking out of them on the other end. From his spot, he watched as Erestor removed nine different bottles of varying sizes from him messenger bag and lined them up on a tray table that already held a bottle of pain reliever, men’s chewable multivitamins, and half a roll of Tums. Erestor disappeared without a word, and Glorfindel leaned a little closer to read some of the labels. Azathioprine... Sirolimus… Prednisone… Glorfindel sat back as he heard Erestor returning, but Erestor was not alone.

“Oh! You have a cat!”

“I do. Sorry… I should have asked if you were allergic.” In one hand, Erestor had a glass of water, and in the other, he had a bowl of dry Cheerios. He set these down on the table and took a handful of cereal in his hand. “He needs his medicine, too.”

“Aww, poor baby,” Glorfindel said as the cat jumped up into his lap. “Even if I was allergic, I am already prepared.”

“I do not follow,” said Erestor after he ate a few bites of cereal and swallowed down three pills. 

“I have pollen allergies, so--”

“But you work in agriculture,” blurted out Erestor after pill number four.

Glorfindel nodded as he petted the cat. “And that is why Zyrtec is my friend. I just pop it before I head in. My apartment is woefully devoid of plants so that I can have my weekends sniffle-free.”

“As you can see, I have a lot of friends.” Erestor was on the second to last bottle now, and another handful of cereal was gone. “No friend-free weekends.”

“If you prefer not to discuss it--”

“I was born with cystic fibrosis, and I had a double lung transplant when I was eleven.” Erestor downed the last pill and sat down next to Glorfindel on the sofa. He held out the cereal bowl, and Glorfindel scooped some from it. “These are all of the things I need to take to stay alive, so that the things that are keeping me alive do not become the things that kill me.”

Glorfindel let out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank God, I thought you were going to tell me you have cancer. I mean, not that this is great, but… I knew someone who had what you went through, and it seemed like it was really life-changing, in a good way.”

“It is,” was all Erestor offered before he scooped up the cat from Glorfindel’s lap as he traded the bowl to his coworker. “And now, General Patters needs his medicine, too,” said Erestor as he gave the cat a cuddle before he set him down on his now vacated spot and walked to a different room.

“General Patters?” Glorfindel furrowed his brow.

The cat’s flicked his ears and jumped back into Glorfindel’s lap.

“General Patters!”

The cat leaped off of Glorfindel’s lap, meowed, and headed through the same doorway Erestor had gone through. Glorfindel followed in time to see Erestor rolling something small, brown, and squishy between his fingers. The cat was sitting on a small table that was obvious the cat’s table, complete with personalized food dishes. There was fresh food and water, but the cat was waiting expectantly. Erestor rubbed the cat behind his ears while he held the treat out in his palm. The cat sniffed and licked it a few times before he finally accepted it and chewed it up, which made a slight crunching noise. Thunder rumbled outside. “Pill is in the salmon treat,” explained Erestor as he gave the cat one more good rub. He then moved to examine the counter, which was indeed fairly full of things.

“We could order something if you prefer I not touch your kitchen,” suggested Glorfindel. 

“You already saw it, so the damage is done.”

Glorfindel pointed to the refrigerator. “May I?”

Erestor motioned to it. “Be my guest.”

The door was pulled open, and Glorfindel nodded as he looked at what he saw. “You excel at food tetris,” he finally said.

“A lot of it is leftovers. I need to go through it. There was also a sale on hummus,” said Erestor defensively.

“I can see that.” Wherever an empty space might have existed, a small, round tub of hummus was wedged between ziplock baggies of pizza, plastic containers from more than one deli, and white styrofoam boxes with mysterious contents. Glorfindel crouched down and opened the crisper drawer. “Sale on snap peas?”

“Mushrooms, too. Check the other drawer.” Erestor leaned back against the counter and upset a pot, which slid into the sink. “I cook until I run out of things to cook in, and then I eat out or order in, and usually by the time the place is completely trashed, spring break happens. I finished my last grant proposal of the year on Friday, which means now I can tackle the house this week.”

“Just a thought,” said Glorfindel after he closed the doors and drawers and moved to the freezer, “and this is my first year so of course I don’t know all of the history, but one of the things I noticed at all of the meetings I go to is everyone is always referring to you when it comes to heading some project or another. I ask who heads a certain committee, oh, Dr. Sullivan does that. I inquire who the chair is of a certain advisory board, oh, that would be Dr. Sullivan. You do an awful lot for one person.”

Erestor rolled his eyes. “Fingon told you to tell me that,” he accused.

Glorfindel shook his head as he pulled two wrapped salmon fillets from the freezer. “This is all personal observation. You work so hard that your personal life suffers from it. I get the feeling you have a hard time saying no.”

“I say no all the time,” said Erestor firmly. “No, you cannot have an extension on that paper. No, I am not bumping your grade eight points so you pass with a D-. No, you cannot write your thesis on, quote, what a dick Hitler was.”

“Okay, but, Hitler _was_ a dick,” defended Glorfindel.

“Exactly. I agree with the assessment. Everyone should agree with that assessment. That does not make it a thesis topic. Graduate programs are supposed to bring forth new ideas, not to affirm something everyone already knows.”

“Oh… right. I see.” Glorfindel began to assemble ingredients on the top of the stove, which was the only clear surface. “Alright, kitchen trick. Do you have any baking sheets or pans you recently cooked on?”

“Um…” Erestor looked around and produced two rectangular metal pans. “I just used them for pizza rolls and french fries.”

“Dinner of champions.” Glorfindel set them on the stovetop.

“That was breakfast,” corrected Erestor.

“My apologies.” Glorfindel picked up the box of aluminum foil and tore off a sheet slightly larger than the first pan, then lined the pan with it. “There we go. Good as new,” he said before he sprayed it with oil and emptied a package of pre-washed snap peas into it.

“Impressive.”

“My bachelor game is strong,” Glorfindel said proudly. “Kitchen sink, full. Bathroom sink?” He asked now that he had the package of mushrooms and a colander. 

“This way,” said Erestor.

\- - -

“This is far better than anything we would have had at that poorly run restaurant,” decided Erestor as he finished off the last of his salmon. A mechanical noise sounded nearby; the sump pump, emptying the water outdoors.

“Glad you liked it. I enjoy cooking. I find it relaxing. Just imagine what I can do with fresh fish and a clean counter,” Glorfindel said.

“I do apologize for the state of the house. This is not how I envisioned this going.”

Glorfindel shrugged. He and Erestor were sitting together on the couch, eating off of tray tables, and watching the late news, which predicted more rain. “Spring semester is intense. Spring break, graduation, admissions, transfers to other colleges, grant deadlines… it all adds up. Fall semester is cake, with all those nicely placed holidays, and the autumn weather, and freshmen who are still so excited to start college, before they deteriorate into wearing pajamas to class and skipping lectures to go smoke pot behind the Arts building.”

“Thank you for understanding.” Erestor frowned as the sump pump went off again. 

“Should that be making so much noise?” asked Glorfindel the next time it happened.

“No… I mean, it can, but this seems excessive. I need to check the basement. I will be right back,” Erestor assured Glorfindel.

“Take your time,” said Glorfindel as the cat jumped into his lap again. A few minutes later, Erestor reappeared. “Is everything alright?”

“I need to check the pipe going outside.”

“In this weather?”

Erestor pulled a jacket from a metal coat rack near the door. “The water pumps out, but then it fills again, like it is backwashing.”

“Do you have a check valve on it?” asked Glorfindel.

“A what?”

“A check valve,” Glorfindel repeated. “It keeps the water from flowing in the reverse back into the house.”

Erestor blinked a few times while the cat scratched behind his ear with his back leg. “I am sorry, I do not speak homeowner.”

Glorfindel snickered. “Alright. Let me go down and take a look.”

“Oh, no, no, if you think this is bad--”

“What are you going to accomplish out in the rain?” pressed Glorfindel.

“I just want to see what it looks like out there,” Erestor said as he gathered a bucket and his phone. He turned on the phone’s flashlight just after he put up his hood.

“I am coming along,” Glorfindel informed him.

Erestor shook his head. “I am just going to look. I just want to see what is happening.”

Glorfindel shook a finger at Erestor. “You seem like the sort who is going to go do something if you see a problem. I am not letting you go out there alone.”

Erestor shoved his keys into his pocket. “You are really rather honest. You know that, right?”

“Hey.” Glorfindel took hold of Erestor’s arm and stopped him from reaching the door just yet. “We are still on a date, remember?”

“I know,” Erestor groaned. “I am so sorry. This is probably the worst date you have ever been on.”

When Erestor turned around, Glorfindel stole a kiss. “I never said that. Let’s go see what’s going on together.”

\- - -

Several previous days of rain caused erosion in the yard, and dirt now blocked the sump pump exit, causing water to flush out, and then drain immediately back into the house. After an hour of digging a ditch and creating a path for the water to go, the pair made it back into the house, laughing, muddy, and soaked. “The next time we go on an ‘adventure’ date, let me know so that I can wear appropriate footwear,” scolded Glorfindel playfully as he unlaced and stepped out of his shoes, once finely polished, now sloppily caked with mud.

Erestor, whose jacket made a slapping noise from the water as he removed it and it hit the wall, stepped back to the doorway to wring it out. “I am so sorry. I never realized how bad it was out there.”

“I am going to help you regrade your lawn this summer,” promised Glorfindel, who was wringing out his hair. “We are going to make sure you are fluent in homeowner by this fall.” 

As they stood dripping on the hallway rug, Erestor pulled off his tie and began to remove his shirt. Halfway, he froze, and looked up at Glorfindel, who was still fully dressed, save for the muddied shoes. 

“What’s wrong?” Glorfindel set his hand on Erestor’s damp shoulder.

Erestor shivered. “The scars… I…” He gripped the wet cotton fabric.

Glofindel stepped closer, droplets of water plummeting down from a loose tendril of blond hair curled up at his forehead. “We need to get out of these wet clothes. You don’t want to catch pneumonia.” Very slowly, giving Erestor a chance to stop him if he truly desired it, Glorfindel unbuttoned Erestor’s shirt the rest of the way down, loosened the cuffs, and slid it back over his shoulders. Now his belt was unbuckled, left in the loops of the pants that were unzipped and dropped to the floor. His undershirt and boxers remained, white and clinging to his skin, and carefully without losing eye contact, Glorfindel pulled the shirt over Erestor’s head. Scars were now revealed - one long wave across his chest, and multiple smaller ones. There was a slight bulge to the side as well, and Glorfindel reached out, fingers hovering over it. “Do they hurt?” he asked softly.

The entire time, Erestor was still, only moving his arms as needed when Glorfindel him to. Only now did Glorfindel note the tears that had welled up in Erestor’s eyes, threatening to spill over. He shook his head, and then began to apologize. “I’m sorry… that’s from the colostomy… it just never healed right, and…” He looked away when Glorfindel locked eyes with him again, and the first tears slid down his right cheek. “I’m sorry I look so disgusting.”

Glorfindel traced a finger along the winding path on Erestor’s skin. “I love these scars,” he whispered. “They mean that you and I can be here sharing this moment.” And he bent down and kissed along the path before ghosting his lips over each and every other scar he found. He paused at the nub that bulged out, and his lips brushed over it twice before he stood again. “You are beautiful,” he said as he wiped away the tears from both of Erestor’s cheeks.

Erestor sniffled, only now realizing that Glorfindel was trembling from the cold of his own wet clothing, and he began to return the favor of removing the drenched garments. As he was unfastening Glorfindel’s pants, he looked back up at him. “Stay,” he suddenly said.

“Tonight?” asked Glorfindel for clarification.

“For starters,” Erestor replied.

The clock in the hall, as Erestor led Glorfindel upstairs to the bedroom, read midnight.


End file.
